Big Sky Country
by Zulon
Summary: War. War never changes. In 2077, The earth was nearly wiped clean of human life. From the ashes of post-nuclear America, society slowly rebuilt itself. In the unspoiled wilderness of Montana, a father and son will find themselves swept up in an adventure.


Chapter 1: Open Road

Location: Northern Wastelands

June 9th, 2260…

* * *

Dust swirled across the barren landscape, catching the harsh sunlight that baked the region. Formerly the state of Montana, it became part of the Northern Commonwealth in the late 1960's. Left mostly unscathed from the Great War, there was still plenty of mutated fauna to contend with. There came a burst of static from the Lil' Pip secured to Daniel Cruz's belt, catching an errant radio signal. The air was soon filled with the musical stylings of Cab Calloway, his energetic voice belting out the lyrics of 'Two blocks down...turn to the left'. It was an oddly appropriate tune, given the nomadic lifestyle that he had chosen to embrace. Rising from amongst the shattered boulders, the man in a drifter outfit headed deeper into the crevasse. As he entered a small opening, the music emanating from the Lil' Pip drew the attention of a small boy crouched before a cooking fire. Naked, his only articles of clothing consisted of a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of leather moccasins. His nakedness stemmed from the heat wave, which didn't appear to be breaking anytime soon.

"You got it workin', Papa?" the boy asked, eyes widening with joy.

"For now. Best to enjoy it while it lasts."

"Are we gonna be safe here, Papa?"

"We'll be fine," he insisted, taking a seat on a nearby rock.

They weren't the only occupants of the campsite, curled up in front of the tent was a German Shepherd, while a majestic black Stallion stood nearby. Horses were already a rare species, thought to have been driven to extinction by the wasteland's more dangerous creatures. Removing his own wide-brimmed hat, Daniel tucked it into the folds of his duster and ran his fingers through his damp black hair.

"What's on the menu, Junior?" he asked.

"Radstag stew," the boy replied proudly, stirring the pot that rested within the fire.

"Sounds good."

Rising to his feet, the man headed over to the horse and rummaged around in one of the saddlebags. Finding what he had been looking for, he returned to the campfire and offered the boy one of the two bottles he had removed. Junior's eyes lit up upon realizing that it was a bottle of Nuka-Huckleberry, and greedily accepted it. It was a flavor of Nuka-Cola that had been exclusive to the Northern Commonwealth, more specifically Montana.

"What'cha drinkin', Papa?"

"Downhome Country Lemon," he replied, watching as his son ladled out the soup into two bowls.

It was a Lemon-Lime soda; the state drink of Montana, that was until the Nuka-Cola Corporation acquired the patent. They had marketed their own variation in the form of Nuka-Cola Clear, but it had never made it onto store shelves. A silence descended upon the campsite as father and son ate in silence, with only the crackling of the burning wood to break it.

"Where're we be headed to, Papa?' Junior inquired after a long moment.

"Well...," he began, "I was thinkin' we should head for Missoula, there might be some people in need of assistance."

Junior nodded his head and resumed eating, understanding that it wasn't easy to get by when one roamed the wasteland. He had been traveling with his father since the age of three, vaguely recalling that they had once lived on a farm. But something had forced them leave, and he had no recollection about what that could've been.

"What's the matter?" he asked, noticing a shift in the boy's mood.

"Papa, why'd we leave home?"

The man immediately frowned, his son's inquiry about the nature of their departure brought up unpleasant memories. He had witnessed Butte succumbed to the disease that was chem-addiction, supplied by the Grizzlies. The Raider Gang had originated from Vault 74 near Great Falls, who had established a major drug manufacturing operation. Their poison was indirectly responsible for the death of Kate, who had been stabbed to death by a Chem-Addict. He would have slaughtered the entire gang in retribution, but there had been his young son to consider. He had instead packed up and left Butte behind, something that they had been contemplating doing for some time.

"It…It was time for a change."

Accepting his father's explanation, Junior peered into the cooking pot, finding that they had polished off the Iguana soup.

"Finished?" the man asked, causing the boy to nod, "

Then you best turn in then, we've got a lot of distance to cover tomorrow."

Agreeing, the boy rose to his feet and handed over the dirty utensils to his father, not forgetting the bottle of Nuka-Cola and the cap.

"Night, Papa," Junior said, giving the man a hug.

"Night, kiddo. I'll be along shortly."

He watched his son head for the tent, stopping in order to reach down and scratch the head of the German Shepherd.

"C'mon, Cecil," he said.

The dog immediately rose into a standing position, letting out a yawn before following his young master. Daniel occupied himself with the removal of the cooking pot, cleaning the utensils and returning them to the saddlebags. Deactivating the Lil' Pip, he crawled into the tent and found Junior sound already asleep within his sleeping roll. Cecil was positioned on the floor next to the boy, keeping a protective watch over him. Leaning over, he kissed his son's temple and gave the German Shepherd a good scratch, before he got himself ready for bed.


End file.
